


Crime time

by Zoya113



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: A little bit of pining, ACAB, AU collections, Cops, F/M, M/M, Male manipulation, Murder, One Shot Collection, assassinations, be gay do crimes, tags to progress as story does !, villains are cool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya113/pseuds/Zoya113
Summary: One shot collection of different AU’s based off of classic movie villain tropes
Relationships: Deb/ Alice, General Mcnamara/ Xander Lee, Nora & Zoey, Paul Matthews/ Emma Perkins, Sam/ Charlotte, Sam/ Zoey
Comments: 20
Kudos: 19





	1. Emma - the Rogue

**Author's Note:**

> This book is based off of story requests I took on my ig account and a full list of the tropes and their characters is up in the highlights on @sapphic.melissa113 for reference !

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul takes a different route to work one day and is unfortunate enough to encounter a marauder ready to make a strange deal with him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw - knives, kidnapping   
> Emma, Paul

There was the common misconception that crime was secluded to only the night, but Emma preferred the early mornings. 

It was easy to snatch a wallet while riding a packed bus, or to ‘accidentally’ bump into someone in footpath rush hour, and most competition was still asleep. 

Her usual street was full of its regulars hurrying on their way to their pitiful little jobs, Emma was not like that though, she didn’t spend ten years backpacking to come back at work some boring nine to five, she just got real good at being broke. 

From where she was perched on the roof tops of the street though, someone new caught her eye.

A tall man, probably about double her height almost. Fancy suit, well groomed, and most importantly he was lugging a big bag along with him. 

“Oooh,” she hummed, sliding down the slant of the roof and grabbing the gutter to drop down onto the windowsill beneath, using her footing to launch herself over to the opposing brick wall. She caught the ladder of the fire escape with both hands, allowing herself to drop down. 

She slipped seamlessly into the crowd, weaving between passerby’s on her street. 

She could see the man’s head above the rest of the crowd and it made her chuckle, he was easy prey. 

She hurried up ahead until she was only a few paces behind. He seemed to be in a hurry which was unfortunate, because he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Emma trailed behind him for a moment in a light jog, trying to keep up with his speed walking. What was a guy like him doing in this part of Hatchetfield? It wasn’t exactly known for its safe reputation, but she loved a clueless man, they were easier victims. 

She swerved to his right, hurrying ahead of him and veering down off into the street’s alley to watch him from the front curiously as he raced on his way. 

She stuck to the shadows, stepping up on the bottom of the gutter and waiting until he was close enough and- “shit! Hey!” She called out, watching as his head snapped around to face her. “Hey, excuse me! I’m stuck, do you think you could help me out?”

He loitered for a second, glancing left and right like he thought she was talking to someone else. 

“Sir!” She called again, putting on her sweetest, most unassuming voice. “I’ve got my leg stuck behind this pipe, I need your help!” She tried. “It’s really hurting!” She added for urgency, no stranger to acting, and he seemed to buy it too. 

“Oh, uh,” the man stepped off the path, lingering out of the shadows. “Should I call someone?” 

“No, no, you look strong enough, just come help me out!” She pretended to plead, shifting her leg like it was stuck and she couldn’t get it out. “It really hurts!” It was too dark to see that her leg was no more than shoved behind the post.

“Oh, okay!” In a panic he dropped his bag by the brick wall, hurrying up to her.

She leant down like she was pulling at her boot, and when he stepped up to help her she whipped out the switchblade she kept tucked inside, and in one swift moment pressed it to the back of his neck.

He tensed up and let out a gasp, freezing.

“Give me your bag, a-“ but before she even finished his sentence the man had passed out. 

Well, this was an easy morning for her. 

She licked her lips, staring at his bag.  
Emma tucked her switchblade back in, satisfied with the bit of grunt work behind lifting his bag. It must be full. 

She was about to walk off with it when she just about tripped over his leg, and she was forced to remember the man passed out in front of her. “Ugh.” 

She couldn’t just leave him here she thought, it very much meant that he could wake up and go tell someone about her. 

Guess she was going to have to take home a guest. She grinned. What an interesting morning.

——————————————————  
When Paul awoke he was lost. 

There was a gap in his memory and a pain in his head, certain he had already woken up this morning, and certain he had been on his way to work. 

His eyes were met only with a sullen darkness, not quite that of his bedroom at night, but not quite that of anything he recognised actually.

When he tried to raise a hand to his eyes he was stopped, a thick rope pulling against his wrists holding him tightly in place, and that was when he remembered. 

He had taken a different path to work, cutting a corner because he had been late, Paul knew Hatchetfield like the back of his hand but he had never taken the shortcut until today and what a dumb mistake that was.

There had been a knife to his back, and he must’ve blacked out after that. 

His breath hitched, and he lurched forward in his seat for breath, trying to free up the invisible tightness around his throat but his suit caught at his shoulders and he began to hyperventilate at the scratchy feeling of his collar against his hot skin, making any form of movement harder than it needed to be. 

He hung his head, trying to shake whatever it was off his face, letting out a confused cry and starting to thrash with the little bit of mobility he had in his legs and shoulders, attempting to rock the chair over.

“Hey, hey, stop whining,” came a contrastingly calm voice from somewhere far too close by before the sack was pulled off his head. “I don’t like the loud ones.”

He caught his breath first in one gasp like he was eating it in, the feeling of his hot breath still sweaty on his flushed skin, his wild eyes moving too quickly around the small room to focus on the girl standing right in front of him. 

She had one eyebrow raised, and despite the very real struggle he was in it made him feel like a fool for writhing, and guiltily, he pulled back into his seat as to not anger her.

“You aren’t too bad looking under there, huh,” the girl snorted, pulling out a seat of her own. 

The ceiling was low to the floor, decorated with hanging threads of beads and drying herbs and jewels that caught in the light of the myriad of flickering candles lit up around the den, casting colourful shadows across the equally as cluttered walls.

It made Paul claustrophobic how close and messy everything was, there was a jewel necklace strung up right above his head and if he didn’t hunch his shoulders the very end of it ran through his hair. 

“Yeah, yeah, take it in,” the girl tipped her head to the side. “I love to see you admiring my collection, it’s flattering,” she picked up a sterling bracelet off the table as she grabbed a seat across from him. There wasn’t even a table between the two, the chair he was on was just propped up against a wall, tied tightly up with thick rope to a post behind him. 

“Twenty seventeen, rich looking lady, Linda Monroe, took it right from her wrist while I was shaking her hand,” she explained, setting it back down. “She didn’t even notice!” she giggled, raising a hand to brush it through the curtain of jewels hanging off the ceiling, they sung like wind chimes for a second. “Took this one from a market, just this June, I had to have something blue,” she told him, fingers playing with a string of sapphire beads strung from the roof. “People don’t suspect a short girl, no one even spares me a second glance,” she informed him. “Especially not you. What did you think my leg was stuck in?” She snorted. 

Paul twitched his head left to right in a frightened shake, his mind quickly wondering to where his bag had gotten to - it was certain this girl was not an ally to his cause. “But you were stuck!”

“I wasn’t stuck, I was in my high school’s production of Brigadoon!” She corrected him. “I was Bonnie Jean,” she said, putting on a strong, almost unintelligible accent.

Paul blinked “That was 2003 right?” He paused. He had actually seen that production. 

They both stared at each other. And then they moved on.

“Caught your breath yet?” She kicked one leg up over the knee of the other, and he noticed her hikers boots were stained with mud. “I don’t wanna have to cover your mouth, I hate getting spit on my stuff, the loud ones are no fun,” she rolled her eyes like a fight for his life would only be a tedious hassle to her. She traced her hands around the rim of a bangle she was holding in her palm before slipping it onto her wrist. “If you hadn’t passed out I wouldn’t have to bring you back here, but I get it, it happens sometimes. You’re way too big for me though,” she waved a hand.

“Huh?” His gasp was breathless, and only choked his lungs. 

“I had to ‘weekend at Bernies’ you back here which was hard because you’re really fucking tall,” she joked. “I’m exhausted. So thanks for being quiet. I hate the loud ones, with all their ‘that’s my stuff! You can’t take that!’ it’s like, let’s read the room a bit, huh?” 

“I’m being robbed?” He asked, yanking again at the ropes around his wrist. 

“Well this certainly isn’t a tea party,” she squinted, checking around the den like she had to be clear. “You looked too fancy, with that suit and that big bag of yours,” a smile crossed her face, and she turned back to face him, one hand fishing into the collection of trinkets and treasure and catching a bag strap in her hand, pulling it up into her lap. “You’ll only give yourself rope burn by pulling. I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere any time soon,” she added as he pulled again, but his hands were firmly behind him. 

“You’re a thief,” he finally managed to put two and two together, although thieves usually didn’t kidnap unless they were planning on killing, he would’ve panicked until she waved a dismissive hand. 

“I prefer the term marauder, it has a better ring to it,” she shook her head, glancing up and catching his expression. Her sly smile fell into a more unamused look. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you,” she told him as a hand snaked inside his satchel. “You actually have no clue how lucky you are today,” absently she reached out to pat his shoulder, almost like she was offering him comfort, and it sort of worked. “Any of the others wouldn’t have given you a chance, but I think it’s way too much work to off someone on sight for a couple of bucks,” she sighed, examining her nails like she expected to see blood under them. 

“You, you kill people?” His voice was barely a whisper, his throat scratchy and dry and his voice threatening to break into a sob. He tried to keep it steady, already noticing she wasn’t a fan of loud sounds. 

“Not me, not if I don’t have to. You really don’t know what part of Hatchetfield you’re in, huh?” She seemed genuinely surprised, picking up another bracelet to run her fingers around, the candlelight bouncing off the silver right into his eye. “You’ve got no clue how many horrors this little town has,” she paused before cracking a smile. “That’s probably for the best, just don’t come this way again.” 

It was a warm smile, sort of like that of an old friend, or one belonging to a harmless yet teasing joke. Somehow it made him smile too, even if it was much more confused and panicked, falling off his face seconds later in favour of steadying his breath, clinging onto the idea that she was going to let him go. 

“Contrary to the belief of some of these guys,” she began again since he wasn’t doing much talking. “Its much more useful to me to leave you alive.” The flickering light of a nearby candle caught her wild grin and her bright eyes, and Paul jolted back, shoes scraping against the floor as she tried to push himself back fruitlessly, kicking the clutter at his feet. “Almost everyone has something to offer,”

“I-I don’t- do you want money?” He asked, that was all he had, and he didn’t even have much of it. He couldn’t focus on her right, gagged by fear. 

“No, no,” she shook her head. “Connections. Bet you haven’t heard that from a thief before.“

“Connections?” Paul didn’t know anyone either, his throat began to close up again. No one of any power. He worked IT at CCRP, unless she was in the market for a new website or a battery change he was useless. 

“You’ll just have to hope you have some sort of favour to give that holds more worth than any of the belongings you have on you.” She dumped his bag upside down, the contents spilling out into her lap, loose change and paper clips and pens falling down onto the ground amongst the clutter. “If you can offer me something more useful than the stuff in your bag you can keep it all, if not, I’ll be adding it to my collection,” she explained, her hands worked seamlessly through the collection in her lap, and Paul tried to make a mental list of everything he had packed today.

“Who are you?” He had to asked.

“What, you want my name?” She tilted her head, grinning again. “Take it right down to the HFPD, huh?” 

That was when Paul realised he had no clue where he was. There was burlap hanging down over the only window, he didn’t even know what time it was. 

“Hah, it’s Emma,” she told him seconds later, her black painted nails scratching over the cloth of his satchel. “They’ll never find me. You don’t even know where you are.” 

Paul didn’t like having his hands tied, but he could still rub his fists against each other with the slight amount of movement the rope allowed, and he began taking in her face. It was sharp in shape and she had a scar trailing across her cheek, tucked away by the locks of her deep brown hair. Her eyes were the same sort of brown, like black coffee, he thought to himself, his favourite drink. She couldn’t be too tall, and her hair didn’t reach very far down her back, she kept brushing it back behind her ear with one hand as she spoke, a jeering smile ever present on her face. 

“Are you staring?” She caught him, her grin widening, brows knitting teasingly. “Mister...” she paused, flipping open his wallet. “Paul Matthews?” She turned his ID card to him. “You’re sorta blinking in this photo, it’s unfortunate.”

He shook his head, letting out an anxious chuckle to play it off. “Hahahah, they didn’t let me redo it,” he laughed a little too long, trying to let out the breath trapped in his lungs.

“Well. You’ve got about twenty bucks in cash in here so you aren’t off to a good start,” she pocketed it, shoving it into a leather satchel on the table. “Card is yours. They’re way too easy to trace back to me,” she sighed, tossing the wallet into the mess on the floor, and Paul winced as he tried to keep track of where it was amongst all the trinkets and piles and collections. 

“Oooh, fancy fountain pen,” she drew it along her arm, sketching the head of a dog onto her wrist. “You work a fancy job?” 

“Uh, uh,” he stammered to answer, not sure what would please her. “Yes, no, yes but not me,” he answered.

“Haha, what?” She raised a brow at his answer, smacking the pen to the table by her side and heaving out his laptop next, opening it on her lap. “Office job, IT, I’m guessing?” When he nodded she laughed, pointing a finger at him. “I knew it, I knew it, I could tell you had something lame, you look far too empty inside for anyone looking forward to something.” 

The implication frightened him, but for some reason he was more focused on the fact she had been in fact watching him. “So you were staring at me?” He countered, the retort coming out dry and with very little power behind it.

“Oh you are cute, man,” she shook her head, opening up his laptop. “Ooh, out of charge,” she sighed, setting it down on top of the scramble of documents on the table, stepping over the mess at her boots to go wading through the narrow paths of the den. “What sorta laptop is that?” She leant down, examining something. 

“Uh, um, it’s a-“

“Well you’re shitty at your IT job,” she shrugged, and he recognised the sound of something getting plugged into a wall. 

She came back with a cord in hand, short enough to walk right under the necklaces and hanging candles and macrame swinging from the roof. “I tried studying botany,” she noted. “I was gonna start a pot farm.” 

Something about the way she spoke was giving Paul strong déjà vu. Like perhaps he had had this conversation before. 

“Turns out crime is just a whole lot easier though!” She exclaimed jovially as she sat back down with a sigh, plugging his laptop into the charger she now held. “Now let’s have a look at what sorta job you work, huh?” 

In the midsts of all this confusion the hum of his laptop whirring to life was a comfort. 

“I was hoping you’d have something more exciting on you,” she confessed. “Clearly not a jewellery guy though. What’re you into?”

“Film, for the most part,” he gulped, hoping it was boring enough to have her let him go. “You?” 

“Pick pocketing,” she answered jokingly. 

“Why do you steal?” 

“Well, turns out I’m really good at it!” She nodded. “Hey, you know not many people ask, that’s kind of you.” She seemed lighthearted for the most part but her eyes were actually shining, and it sort of made him laugh. 

“How’d you find out about that?” He had to ask, his hands sort of slowing down at rubbing against each other. 

“Oh, a shit storm of a story,” she grunted, mood shifting quickly as she dropped his laptop back onto her lap. “I used to backpack, I spent like ten years in Guatemala,” she begun. “Then one day you leave your passport and shit in your dorm and boom, it’s fucking gone,” the story still seemed to upset her.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologised awkwardly.

“Hey, you didn’t steal it,” she shrugged her shoulders. “What better way to save up money than stealing it? There were a few less than legal jobs here and there, I was a bit notorious over there but the rep got too big. I had to go off the radar again,” she tapped a hand to the keyboard. “Password?” She stopped her story to ask.

“Wow, I’m sorry I- that’s a lot.” Paul probably shouldn’t be apologising to the person who kidnapping him, but the idea of having no other choice always scared him. “Uh, 12789.”

“Yeah, I mean it has its charm until the HFPD come chasing after you,” she tapped the number in with one finger, leaning back in her chair. “Like, I don’t wanna have to move again! I hate it when people recognise my face!” 

“Oh god. Yeah, Sam’s an asshole,” Paul tossed his head to the side at the mention of him, grasping at straws for conversation. 

She lowered his laptop lid at that. “You know him?” 

“Huh?” He hadn’t noticed what he had said. “He’s my coworker’s husband.”

“Ahhh,” she closed the laptop lid shut at that, crossing her legs. “Well maybe that’s your key to getting yourself off the hook.”

He should’ve mentioned he barely knew Sam, only that he was an asshole, cheating cop who probably wouldn’t listen to him, but Paul was attached to his wallet and his phone and his laptop and so he held his tongue on that note. 

“Two weeks ago, I was down at the Lakeside mall, how do you say, looking to rob people, and I was waiting for my lunch but I had my bag down at my table. You know, nice little satchel. It’s where I keep my lock picks, when this funny old man took a seat at the table next to me.” 

Paul didn’t like where this was going.

“And he said ‘you look like a lovely young lady, would you mind watching my things for me while I order my lunch?’ And I said of course, as you do when you are a thief,” she recounted, Paul’s shoulders tensing. 

“And oh he had things on him, these huge bags stacked up with like, kids toys, but he had this little pouch and I could just hear the money in it,” she chuckled at the memory, her head rolling back in pleasure. “And you never take the whole thing, that’s rule number one, but I was just dipping my hand in when the chief police officer struts in and recognises me right off the bat!” She scowled. “So I had no choice but to run, and the stupid HFPD took my bag with the lock picks! I didn’t even get my lunch!” She groused, her hands falling down into her lap. 

“And you want me to...?” He dared remind her to finish her sentence.

“Go to Sam and get my lock picking shit back for me. And in return I’ll give you your stuff back, and as an added bonus for risk I’ll not rob your house.”

“You were going to rob my house?” He stopped her.

“Yeah man. How much is that suit? Like a grand? You can’t be struggling too much,” their stares locked awkwardly until Emma pulled away first.

“Well I appreciate you not robbing my house, I guess.” He hoped she would stick to her word as he began to play with his hands again.

Emma chuckled, stuffing his laptop back into his bag. “Don’t appreciate it until you get me my stuff back, I want them by Midnight at Wednesday, otherwise I will be taking it up with you personally in your house that I will have broken into. I’ll smash the window, no lock picking for you.” 

“Oh!” He yelped in a panic, terrified at the implication she knew his address. She had certainly done her snooping. “Right, yeah,” he gulped. It was Monday already, that wasn’t much time. “How-how do I get it to you? Should I bring it back here?”

She finished packing his bag, dropping it over his shoulder. “Oh, absolutely not. I’m not letting you know where you are,” she snorted. 

“Huh?” He raised an eyebrow, glancing around, expecting her to blindfold him again. 

She pulled his fountain pen from his bag again, rolling up his sleeve and pressing the pen against his skin, it tickled as it slid across his bare arm. “Remember, before Wednesday night, lock picks from the HFPD,” she narrated before tucking it back into his bag and rolling down his sleeve. “Don’t worry about finding me, I’ll find you,” she promised. “Now. Let’s get you out of here.”

He expected her to untie him or pull out the sack again, but instead she fished through a shelf full of trinkets and pulled out a weathered rebar. 

On instinct his shoulders hunched up around his neck, scrambling back in his chair, hands yanking at their ropes in an effort to defend his face. 

“Oh come on. Don’t be immature,” Emma scoffed. “Close your eyes and count down from five,” she told him as she readied it above her head like a bat.

Paul gulped. This was not his day. 

But with a task in mind, he was out cold before he even hit three.


	2. Wilbur - the changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wilbur Cross that entered the portal was not the Wilbur across that came out. Mcnamara just wants his mentor back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mcnamara/Xander, Wilbur, Holloway (No NMT spoilers) Schaeffer 
> 
> cw for brief mentions of blood

Mcnamara could always hear the whispers, they had begun following him everywhere since the incident. 

He walked with his head down through the halls of PEIP, feeling sympathetic stares burn into his back. 

Some of the nicer ones pretended they didn’t notice, the higher ups all called him a poor kid and cast unwanted pity down on him like that would bring Wilbur back, others had been pestering him for a recount, begging to know what had happened in those few mysterious moments that ravaged the organisation’s structure. 

He didn’t want questions, and he didn’t want pity. He just wanted things to be normal again. 

Now, Captain Holloway had taken up his training. She was a very sweet woman, but he just wanted normalcy back, his whole life had been turned on its head and it was almost more sickening than the actual event itself. 

He hated the way people were acting like everything was in ruins when they had filled in his position by the end of the day. 

Colonel Wilbur Cross was more important than that, and Mcnamara just wanted him back. 

“Well, what did we expect when we were enlisted into PEIP, huh?” Xander stabbed at his lunch. He had been in a bad mood, it was hard to find energy when Mcnamara was so down all the time. He had stayed close to him, but he wasn’t quite filling the gap of his mentor. 

“Stop,” he told Xander. He didn’t want to talk about it, face the facts that his mentor wasn’t as invincible and perfect and strong as he thought he was. “I don’t want to speak about it.”

He never thought anything could happen to Wilbur. He was so brave, Mcnamara aspired to be like that man, he always knew what to do, he was never afraid. 

Soldiers who walked by their lunch table cast Mcnamara pitying looks even if it had been weeks since the incident, and he hated it. 

He wasn’t weak, and he wasn’t lost or confused, things hurt like hell but he was going to be just like Wilbur, he was going to get better, and be just as strong as him. Why couldn’t people see that? 

“I wasn’t scared of him,” he told Xander in a whisper, he had been the only one he had told the whole story, and it was true. Even now he didn’t fear Wilbur, he only feared what it meant for the rest of them. 

He gripped at his head as the image of his mentor forced its way to the surface of his consciousness, lashing out at any other thought in his mind. 

When he came back through that portal his eyes were a piercing yellow, his pupils two clean slits like a lizard’s eye, his skin tough and scarred, almost like scales, his fangs bared in a vicious smile as he forced his way out of the portal, he didn’t even have his safety suit on anymore, just the uniform he had entered in. 

Mcnamara had been rapidly ushered from the room, and he hadn’t heard news on the case since. If it weren’t for the 24/7 barrage of apologies and frowns and platitudes sent his way it would’ve been like it didn’t even happen.

He poked at the meat on his tray with his knife, not that he had an appetite. 

“I heard the portal drove him mad,” he heard someone say right behind him, but before he could whip around and shout at them for people always bringing it up Holloway had hurried them along, out of McNamara’s sight. 

“No gossip, girls,” she warned, and he could feel her hesitating right behind him. 

With a sigh he turned around, ready for another mouthful of unwanted sympathies. 

Holloway placed a hand on his shoulder with a sigh of her own. “Are you okay?” She asked. 

“I’m fine,” he grunted, closing his eyes to embrace the numbness in his mind. He didn’t want to see her frown, or the tiredness in her eyes.

“You can take it easy tonight alright? Take the evening for yourself, I’ll call off your training,” she gave him a worried smile, she had been mourning the loss of who her friend once was too, but Mcnamara didn’t want to waste time, he wanted to get back to training, he didn’t want to sit alone with his own thoughts. 

He nodded to Holloway because that was all he could manage, and she looked like she had so much more to say to him but she hurried off. 

“Lucky,” Xander clicked his tongue. “I’ve got a two hour block of orienteering.” He nudged Mcnamara with his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Maybe you can go to the gym?” 

“I’ve gotta go.” He snatched up his tray, what he really wanted was to talk about anything else, he hated the energy floating around him. “I’ll see you tonight,” he added over his shoulder as he stormed out into the hall.

Even there, there were people staring at him, people talking about it in hushed whispers like he couldn’t hear, he could even tell the silent ones were thinking about it - it followed him everywhere like a rain cloud. 

He just picked up his pace in a rush to the sergeant dorms, no one would be hanging about there at lunch time, finally, a reprieve. 

He groaned though when he saw Sergeant Schaeffer and her friend heading down the hall, probably in the direction of the DFAC hall, but just as everyone else had done she stopped and stared, not even hiding it.

He tried to make it very clear he wasn’t looking her way but she was rooted to the floor. 

He just kept walking, even if he could feel her staring. 

“D’you know they’re keeping him locked up?” Her voice broke the silence of the halls. 

“Schaeffer!” Her friend hissed, tugging her along towards the dining hall. “He’s mourning. Don’t tell him that.”

“What! I saw myself!” She tried to justify it. “Maybe he wanted to know!” 

His jaw dropped, watching her go, her friend bickering over what she should say and what she should probably just keep to herself. 

He turned back to his path but did a double take after her, his legs carrying him on before he was ready to. 

When he thought back on it, he had no clue what happened to his mentor. He had been evacuated before he had even pulled himself from the portal’s grip, and it’s not like they would’ve killed him or anything. 

It sounded plausible, and that’s what haunted him. 

At seven, the sun was down, but the soldiers were still finishing up their last blocks of training for the day. 

Everyone except him, and there was a Captain training a class in the gym. 

He didn’t really feel like running laps of the track field, not when it was cold and dark outside. As much as he claimed to be okay he was craving creature comforts - his bed, warmth, someone to talk to, but Xander was still out orienteering with his class, and Wilbur was gone. 

He rolled onto his side, tugging his blanket up to his eyes. 

Or, not quite gone he supposed. Apparently he was still somewhere within this facility, very in reach indeed.  
———————————————————

If he walked anywhere with enough purpose, people never tried to stop him, but even so he hated this part of PEIP. 

Little was known about it, only a select few got to work in this part of security so he didn’t know where Schaeffer had heard the news, being only a sergeant herself. 

The holding cells were in the farthest quarters of the organisation, and with the sort of things PEIP had to keep locked up not many people spent their leisure time around here.

He slipped through the clearance doors, holding his head up high and walking on straight ahead without stopping, the guard didn’t question him. 

He held his breath tight in his lungs as he glanced from side to side. It wasn’t easy to tell if a cell was occupied or not. There weren’t viewing windows, only slots to pass feeding trays through and he didn’t want to go sticking his hands into those mystery boxes. 

He just picked up his pace, hoping for some sort of sign amongst all the cells and cages of his old mentor, breath burning in his lungs as he got closer to the end. 

Maybe Schaeffer had made it up. That was a much more likely answers now that he thought about it. He had never heard her say something sensical once, quite honestly, he thought with a scowl. 

That’s how desperate he was, he was actually listening to her. 

This was almost like she was hazing him, which was obnoxious considering they were the same rank. 

He was about to turn back before the hurt and hopelessness could creep into his mind when he heard a distinct laughter, and the breath he was holding let itself out in a gasp. 

Wilbur. It was the way he laughed when Mcnamara all too eagerly passed a test or volunteered for extra courses, that sort of proud, amused laugh, but with a terrible twist to it. 

It was more like cackle, echoing off the stone walls of the cells, making it impossible to tell which cell it was coming from.

“Colonel cross!?” He ran ahead, eyes flickering side to side in a desperate attempt to locate his laugh. “Cross!”

His laughter bounced around the dark hall, and he gave a frustrated wince as his search grew more desperate, the sound seemed to come from all around him.

He turned in a circle, measuring from which angle it seemed to hit his ear at, but it made Wilbur’s laugh wilder like he could see Mcnamara.

He backed up against the wall, his head hitting the door and jumping back as it shifted ever so slightly under his weight, he threw himself back to the other side of the hall, rubbing his neck to remind himself to breathe. 

“Ooh, John,” came Wilbur’s voice from right behind him, and he spun around, steadying himself. 

“Cross?” He held a hand to the door, relief washing over him. He could bring Wilbur back if he reminded him who he was, he knew he could - he had to. 

“John, come here, come here,” he ushered, and he could hear his voice right up behind the slit in the door.

He hesitated, his hand creeping up to the slit, flipping it open. “Shit!” He jumped back at the sight of Wilbur’s burning yellow eyes waiting for him on the other side.

“John, John! C’mhere!!” He snickered, trying to jam his clawed fingers through the slot, swatting out for him.

“Stop!” He yelped, he had never see him like this, he was nowhere near the pinnacle of the man Mcnamara knew him to be. 

“Don’t be scared, John! Come here, I’ve got something I have to tell you, I’m so glad you’ve come,” his voice was jittery with excitement, like he couldn’t bear to keep the secret to himself any longer. 

With the engrained idea of always making his mentor proud, he cautiously moved back to the door, holding the slot open with one hand. 

“Oh, John,” he chuckled. “There’s a world you could never imagine through that portal,” he begun, his voice low and crackly, his vibrant yellow eyes flicking side to side at the memories, his laughter growing louder, coming right from his gut. 

“There are gods in there, John, I saw them with my own eyes- gods! Do you hear me? And I met them!” 

His hand was frozen to the slot, unable to break the trace of Wilbur’s eyes, but he arched his body back, ready to run. 

“Oh and they are not kind John. They don’t care what us humans do, I stood no chance! No chance but to join them John, and you should too if you know what’s good for you!” He pounded his fists up against the door and the hinges rattled with his shouts. 

“And we’ll never escape them, they’re gonna come for you one day John!”

“No!” He snapped back, his heart skipping a beat as a terrible chill shot down his spine. 

“They’re gonna come for you and all your friends and you won’t stand a chance!” The man rammed up against the other side of the door with more force than should’ve been humanly possible, his neck craning around to try and catch a better glimpse of Mcnamara through the slot, but all Mcnamara could see where his teeth - sharp like fangs. “One day, Johnny!” He hollered. “They’ll kill you,” he pressed his face to the slot, claws snagging at the skin of McNamara’s hand.  
“They’ll kill you if ya don’t join ‘em!” 

He pulled back with a frightened cry, the young boy falling back against the wall and clutching his palm to his chest, streaks of blood crossed the back of his hand, and Wilbur’s claw-like-nails had caught the flap before it fell. 

“Stop it!” He cried. “You aren’t Wilbur!”

“I’m better! John! You should’ve seen what I saw!” He pounded a heart to his chest, “one day, you will see!” He lauded, eyes right up to the slot so he could keep his eyes on his protege as he backed up down the hall. “You’ll see!” He forced his hand through the slot, and the metal didn’t tear at his scales as he tried to snatch McNamara’s uniform.

“Cut it out!” He barked, jumping back a step and slapping his hand away, afraid to even touch it. “Shut up!” He turned on his heels, storming off.

“I can see you!” Wilbur called out after him, his glowing eyes to the slot again. “You can run from me but you won’t be able to run from them!” 

He couldn’t bring Wilbur back. He was changed, he wasn’t even human anymore. John was useless. 

No wonder they had locked him up to be forgotten about.

“and you’ll see one day! John! You’ll see!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay yo lizard man


	3. Sof - Discord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sof doesn’t need a reason to be evil she just wants to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sometimes u can be a little evil No harm in that 
> 
> Deb, Sof (smoke club girl) Danny (smoke club boy)   
> Bill, Alice & Ethan (mentioned)

‘gonna go kill god do u guys want anything???’ 

Deb’s scoff caught in her throat when she got the text notification from Sof. “Oh my god. Come on Danny,” she scrambled to her feet, jumping off the old beat up couch they were sitting on in Danny’s parent’s garage. “She’s doing it again.”

“Who? Sof?” He asked, rolling onto his stomach with a groan of reluctance, simply taking up the space Deb had vacated, shoving his head into a pillow.

Deb opened the text to buy them some time, shoving Danny again to get him up. ‘What god are u killing?’ She inquired, trying to get some clues on what high/induced crime Sof was off on today.

‘in tha mood to burn down school lol I don’t rlly wanna go back on monday 😔😔’ 

‘U cant burn down school just bc u dont wanna go back where are you?’

‘:((( boooo👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻’

“Shit. Come on Danny!” she grabbed him by the collar to force her friend to sit up so she didn’t have to tell him for the forth time. She hurried to the door to shove her feet into her boots. “We have to go stop her again.”

“I don’t know why she’s been doing this shit lately!” He complained as he stood up, stumbling a bit, still sort of high.

“She should probably stop smoking on her own,” Deb insisted. She didn’t know why but it was enough of an excuse to at least get Danny to come with her one more time. “She’s probably just-“ she had no answer for her friends rapid change of behaviour. “I dunno, puberty or some shit.”

“She’s eighteen,” Danny blinked, but fortunately didn’t care enough to understand whatever bullshit Deb was spouting. 

She grabbed the first thing she could - an oversized stick from his front yard- and Danny followed suit. 

“Why don’t we just call the cops?” Danny suggested. “Why do we have to deal with it every time Sof tries to commit a crime?” He groaned, thwacking his stick against the sidewalk. “It was funny the first time but it’s not anymore!” 

“Well- look, She’s our friend. We don’t want to send her to jail do we?” She reminded the very angry man. Really, she didn’t want Sof to get arrested because Alice would hear about it and she would tell Bill and Bill might not let her see Deb anymore! “She’s our friend, our responsibility.”

“Aww, I hate it here,” he simply grumbled to himself. 

“Look, maybe you’ll get to hit her with your stick, cheer up buddy.” She whacked her stick against her hand, picking up her pace towards the school.

They cut through a side street, boots pounding over the rocky cobblestone paths, pushing open the chain link gate to force their way through. 

Deb briefly glanced side to side but it was all the time she had to spare before dashing across the road with Danny in tow, hoping the row of log barriers outside the park and rushing through the grass.

“Omg!!” She heard Sof’s excited call before she saw her, but then proceeded to almost crash into her seconds later. 

“Who says that out loud?” Deb managed to ask as she grabbed onto Sof’s arms to balance the both of them until Danny just about rammed into them from behind, forcing Deb to let go of Sof long enough to get a glimpse at her outfit of choice.   
“And what are you wearing?” 

“Roller skates,” Sof pointed to her shoes. “You wanna see how fast I can go in them?” 

“Why are you wearing roller skates? You don’t know how to- ugh, oh my god. This has gone on long enough Sof, are you actually trying to do this?”

In response, Sof simply pulled a lighter out of her pocket, confused as to why they’d think she’d be joking.

“Like, breaking the law is fun when it’s trespassing, it’s fun when it’s just like, weed and underage drinking but arson is taking it a bit far!” Danny swung his stick at the ground when he threw out an arm. “Arson is bad, Sof! This isn’t funny, you’re just being a bitch!”

“Yeah! Why are you like, evil now?” Sof had always been rather chaotic, but in a ‘sneaking out at 3am to get McDonald’s’ way, not in a ‘arson’ way. “Are you high?”

“No! I just realised like hey, who needs a reason to go a little evil? A little fucked up?” She genuinely inquired. “Like, I just think it’d be really funny to go ‘wanna see something fucked up?’ And it’s actually fucked up, not just Danny’s new haircut,” she explained. And that was it, her only reasoning. 

“Hey!” Danny shoved his cap back over his head, running a hand through the back of his half-grown mullet. “Being a dictator isn’t cool. I don’t get why you think you’re immune to the laws just because you wanna be a bit unhinged. It’s getting old!” The frustration was clear in his voice, but it was hard to have a reasonable conversation with someone a little too far gone. 

“Danny, I literally do not care,” Sof pressed her hands together. “I’m evil now, I made that choice. And I don’t know what a dictatorship is, I haven’t paid attention in history since freshman year.” She held out a hand to show she was ignoring Danny. “Deb though, how are you bestie! Why don’t we hang out anymore?”

“Because you tried to rob a 7/11 that one time and nearly got me arrested!” She snapped, stomping a foot with her shout. 

“Rude. You are all so mean to me.” Sof scoffed, holding out both arms now and not so subtly grabbing onto a tree branch to stop her skates rolling away down the hill. “Look, if they didn’t want me - a humble bisexual - to be evil, how come all villains are queer coded huh? Riddle me that?” She paused time roll her eyes. “What, did they want me to take after the gay side character who dies for motivation? Nooo, booo, that’s so, so boring!” She groaned. 

“Uh- representation in media is one problem but being a kinnie doesn’t mean you can commit crimes!” Deb shouted again, incredulous. 

“If you’re just here to stop me setting the school on fire then I do believe I’ll be taking my leave!” She declared, her voice high and mighty like she was attempting to sound official, like she had a royal decree to set fire to Hatchetfield High. She let go of the branch she was holding on to, her skates rolling her backwards down the hill to make her exit. 

“No!” Deb swung out her stick to stop her, and when Sof’s skates ran over the stick she tripped to the ground with a squawk.

“Aw shit!” She hit the ground hard, but reached out to grab Danny’s stick and yanked it hard enough to thwack it into his face. “Haha!” Her complaint had not lasted very long. 

“Hey!” Danny snapped. Fortunately she was laughing hard enough for Danny to tear his stick back. “Look, you can’t burn down school, are you high or something?”

“Not important,” Sof sniffed nonchalantly, struggling to get onto her knees with the weight of her skates. “The roller skates weren’t as cool as I thought,” she grunted. “I was gonna like. You know, skate away from the crime scene.”

“Yeah, so many you should just go home, huh?” Deb suggested, giving Sof a hand back to her feet but holding tightly onto her hands to stop her skating away. “You don’t really have to burn down school.” She nodded. “Or anything really,” she added quickly. “I dunno why you’re aspiring to become a criminal but maybe wait until you’re older and you can drive a get away car or something,” she suggested, hoping to talk Sof out of it long enough for her to talk Danny back into it next time she decided to strike.

“Ahhh next time I’m not telling you. I thought you would’a liked it,” Sof grumbled, pulling her hands back to balance herself. “I’m gonna tell Ethan. He’ll drive me.”

“Don’t tell Ethan,” she grunted, pushing Sof back the other way. 

“Ethan would help me commit a crime.”

“Exactly. That’s why I don’t want you to tell him.”

“It’s okay. Burning down school would’ve been boring. But just so you know if I don’t burn it down you’ll still have to hand in that homework on Monday,” she warned, rolling back on her skates. 

Deb stopped pushing Sof, exchanging and unsure glance with Danny, her jaw dropping. “Uhh,” she hummed. “What homework?”

“Core English, your essay on that book.” Sof spun in a circle with some tricky footwork. “Did you like that? I saw it on YouTube, hAH-“ her laugh was cut short as she smacked back into the floor, her clunky skates crashing into each other. 

“Oh my god.” Danny rubbed his forehead. “Nah, I’m still coming down. I cannot whip up an essay tonight,” he grunted. “Can’t we just let her burn it down? Please?” Danny groaned.

“No!” Deb exclaimed, more out of her common sense than her morals. “Come on, Sof. We’re gonna escort you back home.” 

“Hey Sof, do you take commission?” Danny interrupted Deb’s line of orders, grabbing the smaller girl by the shoulder to drag her to her feet, but leaving her on her own to catch her balance this time.

“Don’t encourage her, Danny,” Deb elbowed him, trying to keep both of her friends in like this time.

“I’m just saying! What’s your hot take on breaking and entering? Is that better than arson?” 

Deb and Sof turned to him, perplexed and curious looks in their faces as they stared. 

“Would you break in and steal the grading sheet?”

Deb’s jaw dropped again in disbelief, steeling herself for a moment before shoving Danny. 

“Hey! What!? Surely it’ll like, quench her thirst for crime or some shit?” he attempted to justify himself, brushing his shirt down. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, can I Deb?” 

She rolled her head back with a loud groan. “You two are idiots!” 

“She didn’t say no,” Danny whispered not-so-quietly to Sof, and with an excited gasp the girl shot off on her skates before Deb could say anything else. 

“Thanks babe!” She called out.

She scowled and scoffed at Danny, but deep down she knew she wasn’t going to stop her. On a more surface level she convinced herself she could simply secure Sof from committing any more crimes when she returned with the answer sheet. Who was that hurting? 

“Man, it’s like we have to babysit her to stop her literally breaking the law,” Danny sighed, hanging his head and throwing his stick to the floor. 

Deb let out a loud sigh to show she was equally upset about today’s events, minus the ‘getting the answers to the homework’ part which was pretty sick. “I guess with great power comes great responsibility.”


	4. Nora - the Worker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Starbucks has opened up down the street from Beanies. This is trouble, obviously, but Nora knows how to handle it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nora, Zoey, Emma
> 
> TW: murder, blood, knives

“Ahhh, shoot,” Zoey cursed, searching through the stock cupboard. “Nora, we’ve only got about seven bags of coffee beans left.”

“And we’re gonna need to restock on small take-out cups, too,” Emma added.

Nora sighed, continuing to mark down her list. Around this time of the month stocks were always low, they were expecting another shipment soon, but the cost weighed heavily in her mind. “Thanks, girls,” she nodded, drumming her nails on the table, holding her breath as she totaled up a brief estimate of the cost.   
She was about to open her mouth to speak when the bell rang out the front rung, and Emma held up a hand to gesture she would go and get it, and Nora nodded to thank her for her help.

“Hey, Nora? Are you okay?” Zoey turned to her as she hauled out one of the coffee bean sacks from the cupboard to go restock the bean hoppers out front,resting it up against her shoulder as she held it.

Nora nodded, “oh, everything is fine Zoey don’t worry,” she spared her a smile just to assure her. “It’s just business,” she laughed, nails still drumming hard on the table. She stopped, just to make a point that she was fine, but she couldn’t stop from bouncing her foot after that. 

“Just business?” She frowned, adjusting the bag so it was easier to hold. “It’s just you spent the last two nights playing around with those numbers.”

“Well, someone has to do the hard work,” she tapped the tip of her pen to the number she had circled on her notepad.

Zoey laughed. “I’d tell you not to work too hard but I don’t think you’d listen.” 

Nora nodded, she would be right. “Thanks, Zoey. Can you head over to my office and grab the manilla file in the bottom closet?” 

She put down the bag she was heaving about, “mhm!” and off she went.

Nora sunk down into her chair, trying not to wince, foot tapping hard. 

It was that Starbucks down the road. How stupid was that? A major coffee shop franchise not even a block down from Beanies. She didn’t know how the council allowed that, I mean, they were taking away from local businesses! There had been a 37% drop in their sales this quarter. 

It made her feel sick. What hadn’t she poured into Beanies? It was her dream business, she had worked so hard to get it on its feet, hours of sleepless nights at business schools, thousands in fees and start-up funds and taxes and- oh man. This Starbucks was going to ruin it. 

She held her breath for one moment before exhaling, keeping a steady head. She’d find a way to get money back to beanies somehow. Hard work but nothing that she couldn’t do. It was just business. 

“Hey Nora?” Zoey called, snapping her out of her train of thought. 

“Yes?” She put her notepad down that she had been focused on, not even realising she had started tapping her nails again, and hurried off to go and find Zoey.

She was knelt over in front of Nora’s cupboards, a puzzled, maybe even slightly concerned look on her face. “What’s this here for?”

Nora leant down to see what she was looking at, her hand was hovering anxiously over a butcher’s knife. “Oh, don’t worry, that's mine. It’s just for work.” She brushed past Zoey to grab the manilla file she was after.  
“Hah.” Was all Zoey could manage. “You could grind up some coffee beans pretty fine with that.”

“Hm?” Nora tilted her head.

“It was a joke,” Zoey explained. “I- I just thought it was funny that the knife is for work because it’s a meat knife.”

Nora laughed, dropping the manilla file down on her desk and pulling out her chair. “Oh, I get it. Sorry, I guess my mind is somewhere else today. Do you think you could close up tonight without me? I’ve got some business to handle tonight. I’m sorry.”

Zoey nodded, backing out of her office. “No problem, just, try not to work yourself to the bone is all.” And with that she left.

Nora opened the folder up, shifting aside tax reports and draft numbers and sales receipts she had collected this quarter. Laying there at the bottom of the files were floor plans.

She held onto her breath again, feeling it burning up her lungs. Her nails began to drum against the table too, her throat feeling tight - Being a business owner was hard, but being a business owner with competition was a whole lot worse.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She entered through the front doors, as any paying customer would, head tilted down - just at her phone, in no way suspicious but she knew there was a security camera panned to the door, and she swerved out of its way immediately, not bothering with the line. 

Similarly to Beanies, you could approach the counter without being in the line. If you headed towards the end of the desk there were workers icing and topping drinks. Unlike Beanies though, they were in a hurry, racing to serve the customers - which should’ve been Nora’s customers - in line. 

“Excuse me,” she cleared her throat, why was she tapping her fingers again? Why was it so hard to breathe? “Sorry to bother you, I’m actually meeting with your boss? He should be in his office, do you mind if I head back in there?” She pointed in the direction she knew the office was located, and so without much of a second thought the only worker’s attention she could grab nodded before turning back to the coffees.

It bothered her, seeing how busy they were here. Hearing all those familiar noises but not having the scenery to go with it. It was okay though, the less people saw her the better. 

It was almost closing time anyways. There would be a couple more customers in and out before they would have to be closing for the night.

She pushed through the staff only doors, shoulder’s square and bold to seem confident, but instead of heading for the owner’s office, she turned into the security camera’s blind spot and entered into the bathrooms. 

She closed the stall door behind her, hanging her bag up on the hook and leaning against the wall. 

She checked her watch with a sigh, she’d have to wait about twenty minutes but that was fine. It was pretty much the same as a slow day at Beanies, where you just have to stand there and wait for time to pass. But she would, for Beanies. That business was practically her child, and well, what mother wouldn’t do anything for her kid?

Welp. She felt bad, of course she did. But surely as a fellow business owner he would understand. Not that opening a starbucks had anything on running your own company but she could sort this out.

She heard the familiar clicks and whirrs of the machines letting out steam as they were cleaned, employees calling goodbye to one another as they left, one by one, and with that she stepped out of the bathrooms, leaving her bag on the hook as she stepped back out into the staff hall, casually veering to the right just out of the way of the cameras. 

She knocked twice on the door before letting herself in.

The man at the office desk was sipping on coffee, and he looked up, a bit disheveled and surprised to see someone in here. “Excuse me, who are you?” He asked before anything else.

“Hi, sorry, your employees up the front showed me back here, I’m Nora, I run the coffee shop down the street?” She introduced herself, putting a hand on the chair opposite the desk to show she intended to have a conversation with him.

“Uh, nice to meet you,” he didn’t hold out his hand to shake. “I’m David.”

“I just wanted to introduce myself, since you’re just settling in,” she began firmly, pulling out the chair but not sitting down, this time, her fingernails were not drumming on the back of the chair, they were slightly sweaty but she just held onto its frame. 

“Well, we’ve been open for a month now,” he chuckled, unsure but maybe slightly offended. “I didn’t expect this to be a meet and greet, what shop did you say you worked at again?”

She gave a forced, rough chuckle to amuse him. Sometimes, she couldn’t stand that sort of ‘I’m better than you’ attitude. Especially not from a franchise man making easy money. He didn’t have to be impolite. “I own Beanies, it’s my own company. I just thought I’d stop by when I had a spare second to give you a word of advice,” she licked her dry lips but her voice didn’t waver.

He was barely even looking up at her, still typing away on his computer, sort of looking at her out of the corner of his vision. “Yes? Sorry I wasn’t expecting anyone, I’m sort of in the middle of something.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“Well, we got a bonus this month, we made far more than we intended to and I’m just allocating the funds,” he chuckled, tapping one hand to his chest as if to imply they were all going right back to him, not even his workers.

Well she came in here feeling bad, but this man didn’t know the first thing about running a fair business. He was a dirty capitalist, and she felt far less worse about it now. “You know the last time a starbucks opened here it closed down right?” She cut through his inattention with a cold, clear voice. 

“Yes, the owner went missing I heard, I’m simply carrying on the business where she left off. It’s tragic, but it’s just business,” was all he said, his attention short now.

“It’s just, Hatchetfield is a very tight knit community, we don’t tend to be all too happy about big companies taking away money from local businesses,” she tried to explain sincerely, “so-”

She was cut off by a loud laugh. “Well I understand why you might be upset but the citizens clearly can’t be too mad about it when we have numbers like this!” His tone was bubbling with triumph as he tapped his knuckles twice to his screen, some residual laughter chuckling out. 

“It’s gentrification, David. That’s not usually seen as a good thing,” she bit back, keeping herself bold and firm with her points. 

“Hey, hey. I get your upset, but I’m just running a business, there’s not much I can do, okay?” he scoffed, leaning back and staring up in his chair at her now, arms crossed.  
“Yes, but this is a whole island sir, did you have to open up five shops down from us?” She snapped.

He took a sip of his coffee, a deep breath and a sigh. “Ma’am, I don’t know what you want us to do. Just pack up and move down the street?” He asked rhetorically. 

“You don’t seem to get the point here sir,” she didn’t care, he was an asshole and she knew how this was going to end at this rate anyways. “This shop is a parasite, some lousy chain business squishing everything else below its boot. You aren’t welcome here, what do you think happened to the other Starbucks?” She snapped.

“The owner went missing,” he restated himself, staring Nora down, but she didn’t even flinch. “The Starbucks had to close down temporarily but it's back now, and it’s doing great. This has nothing to do with your gentrifi-whatever you’re on about,” he was losing his patience now, but Nora had lost hers long ago. 

“You have to leave,” she told him.

“Excuse me?” He looked around, bewildered, as if he were expecting security. “No, I think we’re going to have to ask you to leave, ma’am.” He dipped his head curtly, gesturing to the door.

An incredulous cackle escaped her at that and she slammed her hand down onto the table. “Sir, you are making this really tricky - I don’t want to have to argue with you don’t you get that? It’s just, I am being very generous with my time sir I don’t think you understand how busy I am. What about changing your hours? You took our rush hour business right away from us and what we make in a day you probably make in an hour or two. I find that I’m offering a very fair compromise.”

He spat, rolling his eyes and standing up from his chair. “Compromise? What the hell is in it for me? What if I say no?”

She couldn’t stop laughing now, mostly anxious but she was also genuinely amused. “I think you’d prefer not to find out.”

“I’m calling the cops,” he leant down to search through his bag for his phone and Nora knew she had to act fast now.

“Surely you can understand! Haven’t you ever loved something so, so much it could drive you to do anything?” The power it held in her made her voice quiver and her hands shake. But no, she didn’t think he understood. Not from the look on his face. 

“What the hell are you on about?” He managed to give a disgusted, almost pitying shake of his head, so appalled he stopped searching for his phone. “Are you still talking about that weird little coffee shop of yours?” his lip curled up in confusion.

That was the statement that broke her, and with a swing of her hand she couldn’t hold back she threw his computer monitor off the table, lunging forward to grab his wrist, sending his phone flying as he let out a shocked yelp, trying to push her back, but she was not as harmless as he might’ve believed, barely inching as he shoved her, but she just grabbed his other wrist, swinging him around and sending him stumbling back to crash against the other wall, the decorative ornaments and picture frames falling off the top shelf on top of him.

She managed to catch one, a certificate made out to him, a business school diploma. It made her laugh almost uncontrollably, but it also made her want to cry. That she could’ve worked just as hard, undoubtedly harder, honestly, and was the one losing here. He didn’t care the way she cared, no one could care the way she cared and no one could understand just how much this meant to her! She stomped a foot down on the arm that had been raised to defend himself. “You’re pathetic,” she spat, the insults and growls and laughs bubbling out no matter how hard she tried to keep them down, this man, this obnoxious, thief, who didn’t care about anything but the money and his own pride who thought he was all so great that he didn’t have to respect her or how hard she had worked. 

She dropped down on top of the man as he squirmed and writhed to get out from under her, she drove her knee up against his rib cage until she could feel a hitch in his breath and watched him begin to scramble even harder, his eyes widening and his hands gripping tight against anything he could as he flailed, he couldn’t push her off him, and with each passing second his resistance weakened, but she continued pushing harder until she was really pressing up against the side of his ribs. 

“Stop! Stop!” He gagged, starving for air as he fought to take in a breath.

“Oh, come on, don’t panic,” she hated it when they writhed. If he just agreed to shut down she wouldn’t have had to pull out the Butcher knife, now he was really panicking, the resistance returned to his muscles and he would’ve screamed if he had breath left in his lungs, all that came out was a rasping and shaky wheeze.

His hands were on her wrists, pushing back and scrabbling against the wooden floor tears welling in his white eyes. 

“Come on! I’m busy, I’ve got things to do tonight!” She hated the resistance! It’s not like she was going to let him leave alive after this, she even had time to roll her eyes as she pressed the knife down his scrabbling more frantic, twisting and turning his spine to try and shake her off, his neck contorting and his whole body writhing against the wooden floor, shoes squeaking with each futile push. His own hands were shaking against her wrists as he pushed back, making it hard for Nora to line up the blade in between his rib cage, and she began to growl as the pressure became harder, she just wanted to get it over with she hated watching him struggle, it’s not like she wanted to kill him but she had to, she had no other choice! Why didn’t he just understand that?

“You have to forgive me,” there was a shake to her voice too, “I’m sorry but I can’t do anything else!” She leant her weight forward to press it down onto the blade,drowning out his resistance and his sweaty, clammy palms on her wrists pinching and digging into her skin in his fight for his life, she had to do it for her business, it was just what she had to do, oh god, he just had to stop struggling, just let her get on with it, just give up, stop struggling and whining so loudly someone will hear, just- and then the resistance gave way, the tip of the knife ripped through the skin and she could feel hot and sticky blood on her hands where she was gripping the hilt of the knife, the pressure breaking as his hands let go of her wrists, blood pooling out immediately and trickling down his shirt and onto her thighs, there was no turning back now as she felt his chest heave up one last time before falling flat, the blood now pooling in the concave of his chest as he let out a death rattle.

She fell backwards off him onto the ground, grabbing his hand and pressing it to the wound to try and keep the blood from getting onto the floor.

Shit, shit, shit. He was dead. This was her least favourite part, the rush as she came down.

She hated the feeling of blood, how warm it was, the same sort of heat as someone breathing down your neck, and it was all down her thighs and her knee and the heel of her palms. Except with her body so numb and cold, they were the only parts of her body she could feel.

She set the blade down on top of him, standing up to get her breathing back in order.

At least he wasn’t struggling now.

She scanned through the bookshelf, fortunate enough to find a letter opener, thank god.

She pulled a rag out from her back pocket and knelt back down by David’s body, dragging the letter opener across his chest until it sunk into the wound. 

She jammed it in further, blood flushing up. Then, she pulled down the bookcase on top of him.

She sighed, hanging her head to shake it as she collected her knife again. 

Using the rag, she picked up his coffee cup off the table, taking a sip but hating the taste, just looking for something to ground her. 

She stuck out her tongue at the taste, starbucks coffee was shitty. She wiped down the rim of the cup where she had sipped with the rag. Once more with the rag she picked up his computer monitor. It was a cheap thing, the sort with a plastic frame. It hadn’t broken, fortunately.

It wasn’t an entirely untraceable crime scene, and it wouldn’t pass as an accident for long, but they didn’t have her on camera, and how on earth would such a premeditated, violent crime be traced back to someone he had never even met? 

God, murder was a work out, and way too time consuming. She had other things to do, a business to run.

Staying in the camera’s blind spots, she slipped back out to the staff bathroom, empty now with the lights off, and she turned on the tap, holding her hands to the cold water to wash off the sticky blood, and wiping the rest of the blood on her skin down with paper towel before flushing them down in one of the toilets. 

Inside her bag she collected a hoodie and a spare pair of pants, both a little too big for her, and she ensured in the mirror they were making her look a lot bigger than she was. She had brought them from the men’s section, and if she tucked her hair back right in the hood anyone who happened to see her passing by would only see a strange, 5’7 man, not Nora, who was a few inches shorter. 

She tucked the knife into her bag, she would have to dispose of it later at Starry cove into the ocean, and properly wash the blood off her. She had a couple cuts on her wrist she’d have to take care of as well. 

Nora caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection, and past the much more masculine appearance she was working with she could see the dark circles under her eyes, and a frown stained onto her face. 

When the found him in the morning the investigation would start right away, it’s not like Nora didn’t know what she had just done, she was painfully aware, especially of how taxing the next few weeks would be, but tomorrow, business would have to return to Beanies.

With the image of that man’s struggling, pleading and pitiful and fearful expression seared into her brain frame by frame, she left the Starbucks with only a single thought in mind: It’s just business.


	5. Sam - The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has made plans to see both Charlotte and Zoey today, but doesn’t want to cancel either. Fortunately, he’s pretty sure the world revolves around him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Doug, Rob, Zoey, Nora, Charlotte, Man in a hurry, coffee jerk (mentioned)
> 
> TW- acab, there are mentions of Sam abusing his power for his own gain, and the way he speaks to Zoey is disrespectful and manipulative

“Any plans after work?” Rob asked from the back seat of the patrol car to fill in the silence.

“Dunno,” Doug answered, flicking on the indicator as they pulled to a light. “Tuesdays are sort of slow.”

“Ah shit,” Sam spoke up, and both of his colleagues quickly shut their mouths. “It’s Tuesday already?”

“Well, the week starts on Monday,” Rob rubbed his neck, confused as to what he meant. 

Sam rolled his eyes. His coworkers were honestly just holding him down. “Yeah, I’ve got plans tonight,” he answered, purposely vague.

Doug didn’t bite, eyes still focused on the road as they turned.

“Uhh,” Rob bit his lip, glancing at Doug, and once more the van fell into silence, there weren’t even any calls through dispatch.

“What are your plans for this evening, Chief?” Doug responded in a rehearsed and dry tone.

He scowled, Doug always thought they were the smart one here. “Me and my wife made plans,” he huffed. “What a pain.”

“Spending time with your wife shouldn’t be a pain,” Doug quickly cut in, turning their eyes off the road for a moment. 

He scoffed. “The world doesn’t revolve around you Doug, you don’t know what its like when she wants to ‘spend time together,’ it’s a drag!” He snapped. Doug wasn’t supposed to speak up to him.

“You live in the same house, what’s the difference?” They retorted.

“Well I wanted to go see Zo tonight.”

Rob and Doug exchanged glances in the mirror, and this time Doug didn’t speak up. The both of them visibly uncomfortable. Good. The less questions the better, they just didn’t get him.

“Why don’t you just cancel spending time with your wife then?” He suggested.

Why did they always talk like they were spelling things out for him? He took off his shades just so they could see him rolling his eyes. “Because I have something to tell Charlotte later.”

“The implication she has to schedule discussions with you is fucked up, man,” Doug shot him a cold glare.

“Our marriage is none of your business, Doug. Hey Rob, isn’t Doug so obsessed with playing hero?” 

Rob let out an awkward laugh that neither confirmed nor denied anything, sinking back into his seat and withdrawing from the conversation.

“Oh, my bad,” Doug’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I will mind my business as you go visit your girlfriend who’s fifteen years younger than you.”

“She’s legal,” Sam pointed an accusing finger at Doug. They always wanted to pick a fight with him over the least important shit. But he didn’t have to focus on people like them, nor anyone who thought they could boss him around. He played with the collar of his leather jacket, flipping it up and down as he racked his brain for excuses, watching the streets trail by as they went on patrol.

Doug mumbled something else under their breath, but were blocking him out now. He didn’t care, he didn’t like Doug. Everything he said seemed to offend them.

“Hey,” Sam pointed down the turn off. “Doug, go that way. Get onto the main road.”

“We aren’t covering that section. There’s already a squad out there,” Doug refused to change course until Sam reached across to yank at the steering wheel before they could even indicate.

“Shit!” They reclaimed the wheel to finish the turn, leant forward and hunched over, nails digging tight into the steering wheel until they had to brush their hair out of their eyes. 

They shot him a dangerous glare and he just shrugged, not intimidated. “Hey, I told you to turn onto the main road, man, we don’t have to indicate, who’s gonna pull us over?”

Rob was holding on tight to either side of the car, arms stretched out to hold the inner door handles. “Dude!”

Doug didn’t argue, just focused on not driving like a madman for now on the busy road. “What are we doing here?”

Sam wasn’t listening, although he sort of naturally tuned Doug out. He was scanning the road intently, looking for someone, looking for- “Pull over, here, right now,” Sam tapped his fingers on the glass, not really caring about how dirty he was making it.

Fortunately Doug had learnt from the last time, and was quick to pull over as soon as they could get a parking space. 

“Hey, Rob, see that guy there?” He jabbed his finger to the glass again.

“Uh, yeah?” Rob nodded, “the guy with the trenchcoat?” He asked to confirm, already on high guard. “Is he alright?”

“That man has a warrant out for his arrest,” he declared.

Doug glanced to the sidewalk to confirm it. “Who?”

“I wasn’t talking to you, I’m talking to Rob. See, look, he’s hurrying away because we parked, he knows he’s in trouble,” Sam pressed.

Rob blinked, lowering his shades. “No, I think he’s just in a hurry. What’s his name?”

“Uh,” Sam scratched his beard. “I only recognise the face. Saw his paperwork this morning.”

“What warrant?” Doug tried to butt in.

Sam scowled and threw his hands down off the window sill onto his knees with frustration. “This isn’t about you Doug, now Rob, go arrest that man! I’m the chief police officer, you have to do what I tell you!” 

“Jeez!’ Rob hopped out of the car, shutting the door behind him.

“I’ll go give him a hand, he’s sorta useless,” Sam offered generously. “Can you go start blocking off traffic?”

Doug’s eyes widened. “...on the main road?” 

“Apparently you’re sorta useless too! Yes the main road, we’re performing an arrest and that man is dangerous!”

Doug took their hands off the steering wheel to refuse the order. “If we block off the main road we’ll slow traffic by like, an hour, we can’t just do that before peak hour traffic, Sam.” An hour would suit Sam just fine.

Sam however was already opening the door. “Well he’s a serious criminal but if you want him to get away…” he trailed off just to mock the way they spoke, both feet out the door now, just leaning down from the door. “Also, I’m the chief.”

“Jeez, okay, god,” they huffed, growling at him to hurry up and close the door. “People are not gonna be happy about this. This is really a two person minimum operation,” they began to add but he just slammed the door if they were going to be so insistent about it.

He strutted after Rob, hands in his pockets until he got to where Rob was checking the man’s ID.

“Sir, are you in charge here?” He turned to him. “I’m in a hurry, is this really necessary? I’ve never even had a brush in with the law outside a few speeding tickets!”

“Yeah, shut it buddy,” Sam puffed his chest out, glaring the man down rather cooly as Rob entered his name into their system. 

“You’re probably thinking of my brother, he’s much more of a jerk than me. Now please have your officer let me go, I’m in a hurry!” He waved out a hand.

Sam snatched his ID out of Rob’s hand before he could finish entering it, slipping it into his pocket much to this man’s distress. “No need for that, Rob, book him. That’s assault of a police officer.”

Both Rob and the man turned to him with dropped jaws.

“What? I didn’t even touch you!” 

“Watch your temper, sir, you aren’t helping your case.” He brushed his hands down on his leather jacket, pulling his cuffs off his belt, pushing the man to the wall. “Time of arrest, five fifty seven,” he announced aloud as he cuffed the man, much to his frustrated shouts and complaints. 

“What?” Rob waved his hands away from the cuffs. “He didn’t even touch you?” He stepped between the two of them.

“Oh, are you gonna handle this?” Sam dusted his hands again, stepping back to clear himself of it. “Great, I’ve got something to handle, just go give Doug a hand when you’ve got him in the van, they’ll need it.” He patted him on the back before turning back down the street, checking the time again.

Whatever Rob decided to do was not his problem nor his responsibility he shrugged as he opened the door to Beanies with a grin, pushing the glass door hard enough to make the bell ring out loudly, laughing as the barista at the counter flinched at the noise.  
“Hey, babe, just in time right?”

“Ugh, Sam,” Zoey stepped back from the counter, hands flying straight to the ropes of her apron, knuckles white. “I’m just finishing for the day,” she quickly took back her harsh tone as he came in closer. 

“Can you make me a coffee?” He dragged one of the chairs from the table over, plunking himself down at the counter. Zoey winced at the marks the chair left on the floor.

“I’m closing,” she restated.

“And I’m a cop,” he teased. “Now can you just be a good girl and make my coffee?” She just liked to play hard to get.

Zoey stood frozen for a moment, he didn’t have all the time in the world, but she kept glancing at the back door. “Sam, we just turned off all the machines.”

“Hey, don’t talk back to me, I’ll have you arrested,” he joked, getting himself comfortable in the chair, resting his legs up against the counter and leaning back. “Latte, Zoey,” he clicked his fingers just to remind her to get a move-on, and with pursed lips she headed back to the machines to turn them back on.

“Weird to have a coffee at six,” she tried to fill in the silence quickly.

“Well, I'm just so busy every day babe you know how it is, all this work isn’t gonna do itself,” he waved his hand, “you wouldn’t get it, y’know?”

She didn’t respond, just focusing on the machines, letting out an anxious laugh as she grabbed his cup.

“Uh, what’s with the takeaway cup? I’m drinking here, quality time, Zo,” he interrupted.

She froze for a second as if she was about to argue but he groaned. “Oh Zo don’t make me take it away, I’m on my feet all day long can’t I sit down for five minutes and talk with you?” 

She was holding her breath as she swapped cups. “That’ll still be five fifty,” she told him firmly.

He shook his head. “Haven’t you already done the till or whatever? I’ll pay you back later, huh?” He lowered his shades to wink.

She turned away to face the wall as he laughed to himself, and half a minute later Zoey pushed his cup across the table. 

“Why do you act like it’s such a big problem to make me one coffee huh? It’s your job, babe, you love me right?” He reached out a hand but she swayed back ever so out of his reach, and he wasn’t going to chase her, no answer.

“I’ve gotta go close up again. That’ll take me about another ten minutes.” She checked the clock on the wall with a frown but it was clear she wasn’t trying to complain which was good because Sam didn’t really care to listen.

“Just turn off the machine, the world doesn’t revolve around you, babe, it’s your job.”

“No, because now I have to clean the machine and wait for you to finish to clean your cup and we have to steam clean them for hygiene so that’ll be about five minutes, and then I’ll have to mop the floor again because you left marks on it.”

“Just let the opener do it,” he told her. “That’s what I’d do. Like, give yourself a rest.”

“I’m the opener, Sam,” she just crossed her arms over her stomach, pressing back against the wall where she would have to wait for him to finish.

He snorted. “Ten minutes is ten minutes, babe, so get comfy because you don’t have to start til I finish my drink.” He glanced out the window, traffic was still looking pretty tight, so he was in no rush himself. He started bouncing his leg to a song stuck in his head, humming a few notes out loud. “You know that one, Zo?”

“Uh, what- what one?”

“The-” he paused to hum a few more notes, tapping one hand on the table, a few words falling out where he knew them. “Y’know? Came out a couple summers ago.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t recognise it, I don’t think,” she rubbed a hand up her arm.

“Where have you been? Under a rock? I thought you were a singer,” he just continued singing it, he really enjoyed the chorus even if he didn’t remember half the words, “I’m just waiting for my coffee to cool down, don’t give me that look!”

“I do musical theatre,” she corrected him.

“Ah, same thing though,” he put his cup down to drum on the table, ignoring a grumble Zoey couldn’t hold back, but she bit down on her lip and stared holes into the floor in silence. “What are you so tense for? You don’t have anywhere to be, I don’t have anywhere to be, let’s relax!” 

Zoey was about to come up with an uneasy response when the backroom door opened and outstepped Nora.

He scoffed and straightened up in his seat, “great, fun’s over.” He stayed in his seat though, hand firm around his cup.

“What’s happening out here?” She asked, arms crossed.

Zoey stepped back, one hand grabbing onto Nora’s arm like she was hiding behind her all of a sudden. 

“Me and my girl are hanging out, we were gonna leave now anyways, she’s off shift, the place is all shut down now isn’t it?” He stood up and put one hand on his hip, the other outstretched like he was going to pull Zoey over to his side. 

“Oh were you?” Nora didn’t waver. Jeez, he hated her. She was a jerk, why did she need to do everything her way? 

“Yeah, actually, so, have fun closing up, Zoey’s clocked off.”

Nora shook her head, and Zoey stayed behind her much to his frustration. “Sorry, I can’t let Zoey go until she’s finished closing for the day. Sorry, I know, I’m an asshole of a boss but that’s the rules, so she can’t go with you and there’s nothing illegal about that, you should be on your way now officer, have a good day.” 

He growled under his breath, catching Zoey’s eyes. “Zoey, come on. You don’t have to, come with me.”

She didn’t respond, eyes wide, hand clinging onto Nora’s arm much tighter.

“Zoey, come here. Now,” he ordered, glaring into her frightened eyes.

“Excuse me sir did you not hear me? I still need her here so you can leave now,” she side stepped between the two so he couldn’t catch her gaze anymore.

He spat. Taking one last big sip of his coffee before dropping the mug to the floor, not unlike a child having a tantrum, and then he stormed out. “Way to kill the mood,” he called over his shoulder. He’d text Zoey later. He can’t believe she didn’t stand up for him when he offered her a way out of work since she seemed to hate closing up so much, maybe she just liked suffering. Damn. Fine body but a dumbass brain, the girl didn’t know what was good for her, Sam supposed you couldn’t find a woman with both - and on that topic, he supposed he had to make his way home to his wife now.

Back out on the street, Doug and Rob caught up to him the second they could, looking disheveled and very, very upset. What now? Couldn’t they tell he was already going through it today?

“Where the hell did you go!?” Doug barked. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“What?” He groaned. “Why are you so annoying?”

Doug ignored the comment, hand on their radio. “Well I hope it was worth it, traffic has banked up all over the place, it’s so bad that there’s another patrol coming to sort it out!” They growled.

“Good? Let them handle it?” He suggested incredulous, they were kind of stupid if they hadn’t realised that.

“We started it! We’ve been working on it since you left!” Rob gaped. 

“There are actual people who need police assistance but you had to go and abuse your power just so you could go do your own thing, there was a break in on South street and they could’ve used our help!” Doug stomped their boot to the ground, hands in fists as they made their furious remarks.

“Oh come on, get over it, did they die? Why do I have to do everything?” He rolled his head back, staring up at the sky, pissed off he couldn’t get a break for five seconds, and could people please stop honking their horns? Just drive the other way! Why’d they have to use the main road!? “If it was so important why didn’t you go and help out then Doug?” He jeered.

“I did!” They exclaimed, hands dropping to their side helplessly, “I did, Sam! And we all would’ve if you didn’t make this god damn traffic jam to go harass that poor girl working at that cafe! When will you get it into your head that the world does not revolve around you!?” Their voice had risen to a shout, and Sam had a feeling it was not because they were talking over the traffic.

“God, dramatic, can you stop shouting?” He scoffed, chuckling a bit. “Wow. Hormonal.”

“Fuck you, man,” Doug turned on their heels to walk off. “Rob, your turn.” They stormed off.

“Where are you going!?” He called out after them. “You can’t storm off on your job! You’re gonna say the world revolves around me?” He turned back to Rob with a hiss. “My job is really hard, you know. Why are they always breathing down my back?”

“Can you just help out with the traffic? There’s an argument breaking out further down the road, and there another group of officers sorting out a crash, someone’s already directing traffic but can you just give me a hand dismantling the traffic barriers you made Doug set up?” He asked, he sounded like he was on his last thread, like he didn’t want to argue, only get this over with.

Sam sighed, “I should be heading home by now.” He grumbled to himself as he took the lead.

“I know, Sam, so should I, but we can’t until we take that man you arrested back to the station to fill him out and release him.”

“What?” His jaw dropped. “Why haven’t you already done that? I only have so many hands Rob, jesus! Do it yourself!” He elbowed Rob, in disbelief at how useless his whole department seemed to be, and how he got stuck with the two dumbest. “Look, my wife is gonna be home any moment, and I want to get home before she gets through this traffic, okay? If you want me to take care of my wife so badly don’t be such a hypocrite!?” And then he was off.

Of course, not without stopping by the bar first. Sometimes he needed a drink first just to cope with Charlotte’s ‘quality time.’ He couldn’t be arsed to listen to her talk about her day, not when he still had to text Zoey about her whole betrayal at Beanies. No one had any clue how much he had to do every day, and he was dying for just a little bit of appreciation! 

By the time he got home, the traffic jam scheme probably wasn’t worth it, he returned home two hours later, not drunk enough to forget but drunk enough to put up with his wife. 

“Hey,” he called out as he opened the door, pushing aside a cat that had come to greet him with his boot. “Can your animals not stand in my way when I’m going home?” He grunted, stomping as he walked into the living room just to scare the other cats off. 

“Sam, it’s eight thirty, where have you been for the past two hours?” Charlotte asked, not accusing, but sort of heart broken. Why did she have to get up in his business so often? What did it matter to her?

“Uh, when did you get home?” He managed to ask, not bothered enough to collect his words.

“Well, there was a terrible traffic jam,” she frowned. “I got home at seven.”

Sam clicked his fingers. “Yeah. I saw that traffic jam. There was some really dangerous stuff. Char I had to stay back late to sort it all out. It started really early, I hoped it’d be done by the time you were on your way home because I know you’re tired by the time you’re off work, but my coworkers are just- oh my god Char you would not believe how bad they are to work with!” He flopped down on the couch, stretching his legs out and resting his boots on the handrests, shooing a cat out of its resting spot to get a pillow for his head. 

“Oh, come on Joxter, I’ll get you some dinner,” Charlotte promised the cat as she rose. “Oh Sam I’m sorry, that’s very sweet of you I’m sorry you had such a busy day,” she frowned. “I’ll fetch you a drink from the fridge.”

“Oh you’re a doll, Char. work is so tough but someone has to do it right?” Thank god he was so brave, that’s why he was the chief, obviously. No one else was the chief because they were idiots, and they didn’t listen to him. 

He sunk into his seat, stretching his arms out - the King was on his throne.

“Here you are, dear,” she handed him a bottle of his favourite drink. “How was the rest of your day? Were you alright? What caused it?”

God, so many questions at once. This is why he hated ‘quality time.’ “Hey, let me finish my drink first, alright? Then we’ll talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Controversial but I don’t think the way he spoke to zoey had anything to do w this being a villains book he’s got to be about 15 years older than her & also known to be a manipulative man who already mistreats Charlotte,, if u think she is happy in that relationship why do u hate women /hj


	6. Emma - The Traveller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hidgens assigns Emma a quick task back in her home town of Hatchetfield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emma, Hidgens, Linda Monroe
> 
> cw - Brief descriptions of blood, murder

Emma enjoyed returning to Guatemala. 

It was equally relaxing as it was exciting, she enjoyed the busy street life, and the lazy afternoons in the hot sun, she enjoyed the mountains and the scenery and the water, she enjoyed the pidgins between Spanish and mayan, and picking up on all the local jargon and slang. 

This morning had been particularly exciting for its own reasons, but she was quite content staring out across Lago de Izabal, her thoughts elsewhere as she lay draped out across the couch in the warm sun. 

“Emma,” it was all peaceful until Hidgens interrupted her, the click of his shoes on the wooden floor stirring her as he came to stand over the couch, holding something in his hand. “How did this morning go?”

She nodded. “Yeah, went fine,” she told him, yawning and turning back to the pillow she had her head on. 

“Fine?”

She nodded again, waving a hand his way to gesture she was sleeping right now. “Yeah, everything is all handled,” she assured him. “It was an easy morning. I was in and out in like an hour.”

“Only an hour?” He wasn’t really impressed, rather worried actually. “We probably shouldn’t stick around then.”

Emma chuckled into her arm, stretching out in the sun before sitting up, dizzy from its warmth. “No one will find the body until Monday.”

“Oh Emma,” he turned his back to her to lean against the back of the couch. “You’re grim sometimes!” He whacked the envelope in his hand against her shoulder scoldingly. “I hope it wasn’t messy, you can’t let them find their way back to us, Emma! We’ll have to leave tonight.”

“We can’t even stay for dinner?” She asked. “I want pepian,” she told him. “That’s my favourite food.”

“The sooner you’re out of here, the harder it is for them to pin it on you,” he warned her, as he always did. Because he didn’t like to have any fun ever. Boo. “Come on. You already have another request.”

“Oooh,” she rubbed her hands together, perking up slightly. She’d sort out some pepian later. “Where do you reckon we’re going?” She asked as he handed over the envelope. “I kinda wanna go to Iceland. I’ve been there like, once, and it’s the prettiest place on earth,” she could only hope it was somewhere interesting, and not America for the 50th time. “Where do you wanna go, Hidgens?”

“It’s not a bet, Emma, it’s very serious work you know,” he crossed his arms, giving her a look to tell her to straighten herself up. 

She returned it just as sternly. 

“Alright, I’d like to go to Tasmania.”

“Yeahh,” she fist pumped the air, only to have got him involved, not because she wanted to go to Tasmania again, which was about a 27 hour flight from here. God she hated thinking about the flight time. Maybe it would be nice to return to America. 

She ripped open the envelope, an anticipatory chill racing down her spine as she pulled out its contents. 

On top laid a picture of a lady with a gleaming pearl necklace around her neck. Her blonde hair ran down to her shoulder blades, face slightly angled away from the camera as she spoke into her phone. 

“Rich looking lady,” Emma mumbled, although that was no surprise. She wondered who called in the hit. 

‘Hatchetfield, Michigan, USA,’ the tickets said, and under that, a name.

Linda Monroe.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, you think I can dress up and sneak in?” Emma nudged Hidgens in the chair next to him to wake him up.

“Of course, Emma,” he answered, waving a hand to show he had heard her before readjusting in his seat, pulling his sleeping mask back down.

“Reckon I can go undercover?” She asked.

“Hm?” He lifted his sleeping mask again, it was hard to hear her over the everpresent rumble of the plane. “Yes, of course Emma.”

“Can I buy a nice outfit once I get there? To take to the party?” She inquired once more, no intent on letting him sleep.

“Yes, Yes of course Emma, whatever you want.” He pulled his mask back down, resting his head against the pillow he had wedged between his chair and the wall. Maybe they should’ve bought their own tickets, first class, just so his back didn’t hurt.

“I’m gonna do it with a dagger,” she stated, it matched her vibe she thought as she ran her finger over the ladies photo, tracing her pearl necklace that was tight around her neck. She could imagine dragging a blade across the chain, breaking the pressure, freeing up her neck for her dagger. 

“Not so loud, Emma.” 

“Can I take her necklace?” Emma tapped her finger to it, showing Hidgens the photo even if he had his mask on and couldn’t see.

He groaned. “Of course, Emma. Just go to sleep.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright Emma, in and out, do you get it?” Hidgens held her shoulders, looking into her eyes.

She nodded, of course she did, it was her job. “Do you like my dress?”

“Yes, of course,” he assured her, not that he was really focused on it. He was holding the lady’s photo in his hand, and kept proffering it to her to check it once last time, but she had spent the whole plane flight staring at that poor lady, Linda Monroe, who’s life was ticking down by the second. Well, at least she was enjoying her last few breaths. 

There was a bouncer by the front door in typical rich people party fashion, and as easy as she could bribe her way in or walk right by him, protocol was that Emma had to sneak in. Less witnesses that way. She wasn’t opposed to climbing in through a window or finding a back entrance but putting on a character to get past the bouncer was fun! Although, Hidgens usually said if she didn’t follow their security protocol that there were consequences for that sort of stuff.

Last time, she had been forced to work with other assassins, and she hated that. This job wasn’t stressful to her but it was such a pain to have to keep in mind the movements of everyone else on your team, make sure they aren’t sloppy. Make sure they don’t snitch or turn on you. In her own opinion, working in a team was much more likely to breach the security protocols than have a word or two with the bouncer, either way, she was already scaling the walls up to a second storey window, boots wedged between the grout of the brick walls and hands tight on the gutter and she worked her way up.  
She reached out an arm to the window sill, leaning her weight in to catch a glimpse through the glass, there was no one in there. With a grunt, she let go of the fire escape, pushing herself up on the bricks just long enough to grab the window sill, and perch herself up, prying the already half-open window wide enough for her to crawl through.

She leant back down to give Hidgens a thumbs up to which he simply beckoned her on with a wave of her hand. She rolled her eyes playfully before shutting the window with her gloved hands. However through the tinted glass she could see him linger there a moment longer, arms crossed anxiously over his stomach before finally walking away from the scene. 

She chuckled, yeah, even if he didn’t like to amuse her antics he still cared.

And then she was off, adjusting her fur coat over her dress so it didn’t look like she just threw herself through a window, tucking a stray hair back into its bobby pin, preparing herself to enter the halls.

She must’ve landed herself in a guest room, and even then they had spared no cent. There was a double bed with silk sheets, an oak wardrobe across the room and a fully stocked bookshelf by the writing desk, full of old classics. She supposed that’s what rich people liked to read. Personally she couldn’t stand the verbosity. 

She could hear the orchestra music through the walls, a real live band, but when she opened up the doors the noise hit her like a wave and it made her laugh, she could really feel the vibrations from the brass in her bones, that’s what being rich felt like. She composed herself though, making sure no one had seen her come through, but it seemed everyone was on the floor below so she hurried down the stairs before anyone could pick her out of the crowd.

Emma glanced around, everyone was either dressed in white or black, with the occasional hint of purple or red to accessorise with, the staff members were all dressed in the same dull grey suits with grey blazers and grey skirts or pants, they were offering around drinks and platters of food to the chattering party goers, their voices joyful and their laughter occasionally bubbling above the jaunty music all while the staff cleaned up after them. They looked sad, honestly, rather miserable. And as a side effect, all the party goers seemed to be avoiding making any direct eye contact with them aside from the woman she could see scolding one of the younger workers over a hair she had found in the cheese.

Rich people didn’t deserve orchestras. Not if they were just going to stand there and chatter. They couldn’t even dance in suits that stiff she didn’t think! 

Now, she just had to find Linda, the real Linda and not any of the several statues or portraits she had seen since she had landed on the second floor. 

“Oh, excuse me!” Someone called to her in an obviously fake posh voice, like their accent had to match their bank account. They were waving her over with a gloved hand, bangles jangling.  
She did her best to give a polite smile before heading over. She didn’t want to seem suspicious but she sure as hell didn’t want to be rubbing elbows with the rich. She had no qualms in fooling them though, she may as well test out a new character she had been working on, she did love acting. 

“Good evening, ladies!” She curtsied, articulating as clearly as she could, not letting her ear-to-ear smile drop for even a second. “How are you?”

They seemed to enjoy that show of respect, letting out impressed laughs, the sort that made them lean back and put a hand to their mouth. “Can you settle a debate for us, young dear?” One of the older ladies asked, she had to be in about her sixties, her hair greying like Hidgens’, but her eyes still bright. “Now my friend Rosanna here thinks that the wine they’re serving is from the bottle shop down the road, and that’s why they’re being served in cups, but I know a Barsalou when I taste one,” she declared. 

“Oh she thinks she does,” her friend, Rosanna assumably, quipped with a friendly roll of her eyes. “I’ve known Linda since she was a young girl, she couldn’t tell the difference between a red and a white and if it doesn’t matter to her it doesn’t matter to anyone else!” At that, the group of ladies laughed, so Emma did as well.

“Oh I’m so sorry, ladies,” she apologised with a hand to her heart. “I’ve been too busy enjoying the platters. I haven’t even had a chance to try the wine! Where would I be able to get my hands on that?” She asked, doing her best to be charming, and fortunately they all grinned and chortled, quite happy to oblige. 

“I know the head chef, I’ll have him pour you a cup the second I see him dear, just for you,” the first lady promised. “Although there has been some talk of firing him lately, have you heard?” 

“Oh, no,” Emma gasped like it was scandalous. “Oh but Linda’s known him for years hasn’t she?” She didn’t know. Barely even knew what the chef looked like but the ladies were eating it up so she couldn’t stop now. 

The third lady of the group leaned in with a curious coo, fingers to her lips. “The poor man, served lunch half an hour late one day and Linda was off her rocker about it! Wasn’t she Caroline?”

Caroline, the first lady, gave a nod of agreement, trying not to laugh. “You should’ve seen it, dear, he’s been on hand and knee trying to make it up to her!”

“Oh that poor man!” Emma made sure to laugh like she had told a funny joke, giving her best smile, “the things Linda puts these guys through sometimes, right?”

Rosanna’s eyes crinkled as she laughed, trying not to spill her drink. “I used to babysit her and she was just as bad, how long have you known Linda for?”

“Oh, childhood friends,” Emma assured her, even though they weren’t really anywhere near the same age. “We grew up on the same street!” She still said anyways, quite confidently. “When she was upset, the whole street knew!” 

And of course, this sent the ladies into another bout of laughter, one of the ladies even hiccuping on her drink. “Oh I can only imagine how badly Maurice was chewed out by her, I hope she was gentle. But Linda does love a schedule.”

“It’s only a schedule if you do it yourself!” Caroline swatted her friend’s arm to their amusement, and Emma glanced over her shoulder as she gave another laugh to fit in, she couldn’t stick around too long or they’d notice when she vanishes from the party later tonight. 

“Here, come with me,” suddenly, Rosanna had her arm. “If we all go stand by the buffet we might be able to hear what’s happening in the kitchen!”

With excited squeals of laughter, she was hurried off with the other three ladies. 

Emma forced a laugh as she was unwillingly absorbed into the group. She checked the time on the grandfather clock across the hall, she had places to be, things to do, lives to end, and Hidgens was waiting. She didn’t have time to get caught up in conversation with these old ladies as sweet as they were, nor do this a second time with any other guest, she thought they’d just mind their own business!

“Oh, will you excuse me one moment?” Emma tapped the lady’s hand where it was holding her arm, “I believe I’ve just seen an old schoolmate over there and it would be rude of me not to go say hello,” she really made sure her articulation was clear and precise on that one as they got closer to the band, she had to be firm lest the ladies thought it was amusing to keep her hanging around, but fortunately she was let go upon the promise she rejoined them later. 

She just had to find Linda, the sooner the better, she couldn’t stick around and risk being pinned to the crime scene later, Hatchetfield was a small town, this party in particular was bustling with security and there were only so many ways out of here. Of course she enjoyed her fun, and the task of finishing off Linda wasn’t weighing down heavily enough on her shoulders to stop her bouncing to the music, but if she made any mistakes and Hidgens got her stuck doing teamwork again she was going to lose it. 

She snatched a biscuit off a passing tray to chew on as she thought. Emma had assumed that where Linda went the party followed, but there was nowhere particularly bustling until she glanced up. On the upstairs landing, out stepped Linda, and she looked just like in the photo - head slightly tilted to the left, shouting into her phone over the music, the same sort of engrained glare in her features and of course the best of all, the thick pearl necklace around her neck.   
She had to get up there before Linda came down, but fortunately she seemed rather tied up on the phone. 

There was about to be a fun change of plans, something that seemed even more exciting than creating a character to hang out with the old ladies. She rubbed her hands together as she slipped out of the crowd, pushing open a door on the main floor, the vibration of the brass dulling in her bones as she entered the empty corridor.

To one side was the kitchen where she could hear the chef shouting to have orders getting on the move, and she was about to keep exploring when the door opened behind her.

“Excuse me, miss! Sorry!” A staff member hurried up behind her before she could go any further. “This is the staff quarters, I’m sorry, the main floor is back out that way, there isn’t much happening down here,” he apologised. “Are you looking for someone? Can I help you with anything?”

“Yes, actually,” she pulled off her fur coat, dumping it into his hands in her best portrayal of an angry, rich lady, hoping to embody Linda enough for him not to question it. “Can you take this to the cloak room? It’s terribly hot in here!”

“Oh, of course!” he nodded, folding it over his arm and hurrying to go fulfill the request. 

It’s a good thing she had only bought it this afternoon because she was not getting it back.

She walked down rows and rows of doors, there were bathrooms and dorm rooms and a common room, if this was all for the staff she could only imagine how fancy Linda’s part of the house must be. But then she stumbled upon it, the laundry room. Perfect. She had wasted enough time anyway.

She slipped inside, listening out carefully for any approaching noise over the rumbling of the washing machines, by the back wall however was a table of fresh laundry. 

Emma grabbed one of the staff blazers, slipping it on over her dress, and then a matching skirt. She checked herself in the mirror, frizzing up her hair slightly, wiping off some of her makeup and fixing the buttons. Now she looked a whole lot less grand. This wasn’t the original plan, but this was going to be much more fun. She moved her dagger from the inner pocket of her dress to the inner pockets of the blazer where she could reach it a lot more subtly, and then she was back off up the corridor. This time, none of the staff even glanced her way, not even as she walked into the busy kitchen.

“Maurice?” She called for the chef, he was the particularly sweaty looking one shouting orders by the ovens, and he was fuming to see her empty handed. He stormed over, about to reprimand her for not having a serving hand on tray when she cut him off with one sentence. “Linda wants a red.”  
He paled slightly, nodding and rushing off to prepare it himself as she chuckled, leaning up against the wall. She was making time now. Well, despite poor Maurice’s hurry, he couldn’t be employed by a dead man, so no matter how great this party was going for him Linda would not be forgiving him for whatever scandal those old ladies had been on about, but she wouldn’t be doing much else either in about twenty minutes, give or take. 

The silver tray was handed to her almost apologetically by the chef, “please hurry it to her, tell her it’s especially from me.”

“Of course,” she dipped her head. “I’ll throw in a good word for you,” she offered.

She carried the tray very carefully, and this time as she maneuvered through the crowd no one even looked her in the eye, all except one.

Standing by the bottom steps was an older man, around Linda’s age, wringing his hands.   
God, his hands. His veins were thick and prominent and the skin wrinkled like wringing his hands was all he did. He wasn’t participating in any of the talks with the guests, his old eyes were staring in horror at the clock until he caught her.

And unfortunately for her, he knew he didn’t recognise her.

He outstretched a shaky hand, and she couldn’t tell if that was because of his age or because of his nerves. 

She didn’t shake his hand, she had Linda’s glass in her hand. “Sorry, I’m busy,” she apologised. He wasn’t a staff worker, clearly, he was dressed up in a nice suit he had probably worn for a while, it had the air of a more youthful man. But he didn’t seem to be a guest either. The husband, she supposed. And it didn’t look like much money was going his way.

“Gerald,” he introduced himself, his voice rather shaky as well. He glanced at the cup. “You’re heading to her now?”

She couldn’t answer that question, she couldn’t be pinned to the crime. “I’m just delivering it to someone,” she answered.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know it’s not nice but you don’t know how she treats me,” his voice broke. “I’ve tried everything, I-”

And then it all clicked. “You don’t have to explain yourself to us. We’re just carrying out a service, we mind our own business. The less we know the better, sir, and the same goes for you.”

And with that, she headed upstairs, Gerald quickly rushing off, wringing his hands worse than before, He looked sick.  
He thought the poison was in the drink. Oh boy was he gonna be surprised about the dagger.

She snickered to herself as she marched up the last of the steps. If she had the whole house to herself she’d probably ride down the balustrade like in one of those old films. 

“Excuse me what are you doing up here!?” Linda took her ear away from the phone once she saw Emma. “Staff have to stay downstairs during events you know that, you’d better have a good excuse!”

Emma raised the glass of wine, putting on an apologetic look. “I apologise, Mrs Monroe, Maurice wanted to gift this to you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well I didn’t ask for one, he doesn’t have to be so bleedingly obvious about his suck-up attempt, go on then, hand it over, I’ve got a headache being on this phone, why don’t men ever listen?” She huffed, stomping one boot. “Maurice is a prime example.” She had hung up the phone, tucking it into her dress and outstretching a hand when Emma ‘accidentally’ lunged forward, the red splashing out vibrantly onto the tile floor, and all over Linda’s white dress.

Linda’s face paled in horror, speechless for a second before she erupted with a frustrated groan, her expression turning into a grimace as the wine seeped through the dress’s fabric. “I’ll have you fired for this!” Was all she managed to say, the rest of her ramble being lost to the orchestra just below them.

“Oh, oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Emma followed her as she stormed back off in the direction she had first appeared from, boots clacking down the hall as Emma raced after her. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry, it was an accident,” she tried to apologise, voice raised to seem more innocent, making her presence as small as possible.

Linda ignored her, throwing open the door to her bedroom. 

Emma only had seconds to catch a look at it before she had to throw her foot in the slammed door, pushing it back open.

“What are you doing in here!? Did I not tell you to get out of here!? Look what you’ve done, this stain will never come out I’ll have to buy a new one! This was the dress I was going to wear this evening, I’ve barely even shown it off and now what am I supposed to wear? Quick, go grab me a new one, make yourself useful!” She pointed a finger to the wall to wall walk-in-wardrobe behind her, and Emma didn’t hesitate to take in her surroundings, she didn’t have that time, not that she couldn’t sense the exuberance of the room with all its golden highlights. It was probably real gold. There was even a built in fish tank on the wall across from the bed that she could only catch a glimpse of before the perfume of the wardrobe cloyed her senses, even making her eyes water. 

She ensured the dagger was still in her pocket as she grabbed the first white dress she could, which wasn’t hard considering how orderly everything was in here. She held her breath before letting out an excited giggle, pumping both her fists and stomping on the spot just to burn out the energy in her. This was too easy! And oh so much fun! She wasn’t expected back for another half hour yet either! Maybe she could go rejoin with Rosanna and the ladies. 

“Here, here you are ma’am,” she quickly resumed her apologetic facade as she hurried back out, carrying the dress by its hanger until she laid it over the bed. “Let me help you with your zipper.”

“Good, you took long enough, this is going to be all over me! And that isn’t cheap red wine either!” She spat, one of her fists shaking. 

Oh well now she’d definitely have to settle that debate for the ladies. But that wasn’t important, right now, she was standing right behind Linda, and everything seemed to slow down, Emma ran one finger over her pearl necklace, and she could feel how tight it was around Linda’s neck.

In a seamless motion, she withdrew the dagger from her pocket, exhaling as the blade sliced through the pearls, and the necklace rolled off her shoulders to the floor in a satisfying clatter as the two pearls where the line had been cut rolled off the necklace out across the floor.

Wow, it was a real pearl necklace, each bead knotted to the string. Now that was real rich people stuff.

Linda however barely had time to collect the breath to release another tyrant of accusing screams at her before the dagger was plunged through her neck. 

Blood spurted out the other side as the blade dug through her throat, splashing up into the air just like the red wine as she collapsed to the floor.

That was sort of peaceful, relaxing anyways. Emma betted this was the longest Linda had gone without screaming at someone, and it was because she was dead.

She took a second to sit down on her bed. It was incredibly soft, but it was clear only one person had regularly been sleeping in it. 

Emma examined the fish tank too, they weren’t exotic, exciting colourful fish like she had thought a wealthy person would have, but the implication Linda just liked fish was all the humanity she had seen in her this evening. Oh well, she was sure someone here would make sure the fish were well looked after. 

She pulled the dagger back out of Linda’s neck, her body still warm. She’d probably throw it in the lake later, or in the ocean of wherever she was next sent to.   
She let herself calm down from the thrill, excusing herself from the party out of Linda’s bedroom window, simply scaling back down the side, leaving the brass of the orchestra behind her. It seeped from her bones much as she imagined the heat was currently seeping from Linda’s body. 

Job done, and in what she might say was record timing too.

“You’re here early,” Hidgens put down his newspaper as she siddled into the booth across from him. 

“What, why are you upset?”

“Did you handle it carefully? You aren’t trying to set record here Emma, you’re supposed to be handling things very, very carefully.”

“I did handle it carefully,” she assured him, exasperated. Oh he always did this. “You have to understand she practically handed me the knife. I was in and out in five seconds, don’t worry, buddy,” she waved a hand at him nonchalantly.

“What are you wearing?” He asked.

“Staff outfit,” she answered.

“Where’s your coat?” He continued.

“Still at the residence,” she answered again, a bit more sheepishly. 

“Alright,” he sighed, dropping the newspaper to the table and exiting the booth, an unfinished coffee cup still hot on the table. “Come on. It’s best we leave town now.”

“Aww, already?” She sighed. “We can’t even stay for dinner?”

“No, I let you stay for dinner in Guatemala,” he scolded. “You had your pepian, aren’t you happy?”

“Dessert?” She tried to bargain, just teasing him now as they left the dinner back out onto the street. 

Hidgens firmly shook his head as he lead her to the car. “Well we have to get to the airport. You have another mission, Ohio.”

“Ohio?” Emma frowned. “There are important people in Ohio?” She scoffed. As if. She found it hard to believe there were even people in that place. 

“Maybe we wouldn’t have to leave so soon if you didn’t leave so many loose ends!”

She didn’t argue with him anymore, because she could sense she was fast travelling back to doing teamwork again. “Yeah, let’s get out of here, it’s boring,” she agreed, just to get on his good side. “The people here don’t even scream when they die.”

**Author's Note:**

> This’ll all be one shots and characters and tropes will be noted at the start of each chapter!


End file.
